Double Trouble
by NeverNight
Summary: ChouShika. Rated M. Sequel to Trouble. When a teammate is presumed dead and left behind on a mission, how far will they go to make things right again?
1. Foresight

This fic is rated M for a reason, and this time it's for the violence.

Shikamaru/Chouji. Sequel to Trouble, but can be read stand-alone.

Many thanks to iFrank for brainstorming with me! Her review (and the passing of notes thereafter) are the reason there's a sequel!

* * *

"My world has gone to hell in a hand-basket," I comment offhandedly, shaking my head as I lean against her desk.

The mission? Failed. My career? Done-for. Chouji and I? Finished. I think now, for the first time, I'm coming to fully realize how much I've lost. Everything I've ever known and everything I've ever wanted is crumbling all around me. I just want to curl up and cry or lie down and die, but I can't afford that now. I have to make things right even if I know nothing will ever be right again. I won't be made to regret what I've done; until my dying day, I will stand by the choice I made. I can say without a second's hesitation that if I were given the chance to go back— to remake the decision which failed the mission and ended my life as a ninja…

"I stand by my decision."

I didn't know it at the time, but my life was already over anyway.

01001101010001

Three days previous:

I could be out on the hill right now, contemplating the clouds with Chouji, but here we are in the middle of some random forest on some random mission of goodwill to some random village I've never even heard of. Not exactly how I envisioned my day when I woke up this morning, but I'll take it. Chouji must be rubbing off on me; I think I've even started to _enjoy _my job again as of late.

"Shikamaru, are you _smiling?_" Naruto raises his eyebrow at me as we leap from tree to tree. He's leaving a much more visible trail, I notice.

"Don't know what you're talking about," I whisper, shrugging. "Now be quiet, Naruto. And watch your tracks, would you? We're going for stealth here, remember?"

Naruto's brows knit together as he looks down and he puffs his face up indignantly as he realizes that even he, with his nonexistent tracking ability, can clearly see the footprints he's leaving behind. His next steps are lighter and much less visible. "There, happy?" he mumbles.

"Much better," I nod, glancing over my shoulder to check on Chouji and Neji. I sincerely doubt either of them need to be reminded to keep a low profile, but it _has_ been nearly a day since we left Konoha's walls.

'Better safe than sorry' is a good strategy to keep to at any time, but given the sketchy nature of this assignment, I'm making it a priority. Our mission briefing was blessedly short, but seriously lacking in any kind of helpful information, such as who or what we're up against. We don't even know what the problem is, exactly. The only thing we actually know for sure is that there have been a few unusual disappearances in the village we're headed to… Not that we know what makes those disappearances unusual. Apparently our contractor thought that information was superfluous. I sigh and roll my eyes.

"Seriously," Naruto whispers to me, "what's going on with you?"

"What?" I shoot him a look of confused skepticism.

"You keep doing normal stuff, like smiling and talking and making faces when you're thinking about stuff," notes the blonde concernedly.

Am I that transparent? I shrug. "It won't happen again."

"That's not what I meant," he pouts. "I—"

A dull cracking sound splits through the treetops behind us, and both Naruto and I wheel around in time to see Neji fall limply from his tree, hitting two branches on the way down before his body sprang back to life and righted itself. He swayed slightly as he climbed to his feet, but he was quick enough this time that Chouji wasn't even able to get to him before he was back up again.

"Neji, that's the second time _today_," I sigh, leaping from my branch toward him. "I thought you had this crap under control. Didn't the Hokage give you something for those narcoleptic spells?"

"It's not narcolepsy," Neji snaps as he rummages through his pockets. "It's the damn cataplexy."

"The what?" asks Naruto.

"The one where he's not actually asleep," I answer. "Don't you have pills for that too?"

"Yeah, but if I can help it, I shouldn't be taking them on missions," Neji sighs, drawing a couple of pills from his pocket and popping them in his mouth. "They give me headaches and I bleed like a stuck pig when I take them. Besides, I'm starting to get the hang of this. I think I'll be able to completely control these attacks soon."

"I'm sorry," whines Naruto, "but can we go back to the part where you said he wasn't asleep? Because that looked a lot like asleep to me. Chouji, you were closer, did that look like asleep to you?"

Chouji nods in his direction and Neji takes a very slow, deep breath before replying. "I wasn't asleep, I just couldn't move," he says slowly and levelly.

He's trying to calm himself down so he doesn't have another attack while his meds are kicking in. I think it's almost funny… His attacks are triggered mostly by stress or embarrassment, and most of that is caused by his attacks. Once he's had one it's like a landslide from there. And, of course, Naruto has yet to notice that he's the one who's been making it worse. _Almost_ funny. Almost.

It'd be truly hilarious if we weren't in the middle of nowhere, hunting down who-knows-what. From what I hear, the last time he had this problem during a mission he was almost killed— awake and aware, but in complete paralysis as he was tortured. That shit will not be happening on my mission. If he has one more of these, I'm calling the whole thing off. He could get himself killed. He could get us _all_ killed. I'm not risking that over such a petty mission.

"Neji," I speak seriously, "For future reference, my team will _never_ include a ninja that falls out of trees when he gets his knickers in a twist. If you're not fit to fight from the moment we begin our job, you're putting yourself and the rest of the team in danger. If the medicine that the Hokage gave you has side-effects, you'd better deal with them or stay at home."

"And when I bleed to death because my blood doesn't clot well enough?" Neji asked sarcastically.

"It was your choice to take this assignment; there's always a chance of dying out here," I snap. "It's your business if you choose to do it at a higher risk than the rest of us. It's my business when you do it at a greater risk _to _the rest of us." I see Chouji giving the narcoleptic an apologetic look. I turn and leap forward to the next tree branch and continue when I hear the rest of them following me.

"Shikamaru, don't you think that might have been a little rough?" Chouji asks quietly once he catches up.

"You know I don't like being a hard-ass, but I think I have a pretty decent reason," I answer.

"You're making this personal when it doesn't have to be," chides Chouji. "They call him a genius, but he's not a genius like you are. He hasn't had time to come to terms with what's happening to him."

I sigh. "Maybe you're right. I think I know how he's feeling… But it doesn't change the fact that those things had to be said."

"You could have been a little nicer, though," he points out.

"…Yeah," I shrug. "Shoulda, coulda, woulda. He'll live."

"I'm going to tell him."

"I figured you'd want to," I frown. "I'd rather you didn't though," I continued, only just less than passively.

He gives me that chastising 'Chouji-knows-best' look of his, and I know he probably does, but a feeling of unease settles in my stomach. I know that as long as he is under my command he'll follow my orders, whatever they might be… But when we get back I can tell we're going to have to have a talk… How troublesome. I wonder if he'd agree to fight it out instead. At least then I'd have some small chance of winning… Well, maybe not. Until then, it's one foot after the other after the other after the other.

This is the absolute worst part of any mission: the hours upon hours of mindless running. I was once told that ninja run through the treetops rather than on the ground for the purpose of camouflaging their presence and maintaining high ground and a decent vantage point. I think the real reason behind it is that running along the ground is dull enough to dull the senses of even the most well-trained ninja. At least the forest canopy provides a more unpredictable track to run— having to judge every leap and bound in a split-second helps to keep a ninja's mind alert. Most ninja anyway.

I could do this backward and blindfolded at the age of twelve, but if I didn't have a few tricks up my sleeve I'd have run face-first into a tree trunk at some point in the last nine hours. What when I was younger fully engaged my every sense now takes no more than a passing thought to accomplish. In other words, it's mind-numbingly boring. While having a good time on a mission is not high on my list of priorities, I have the presence of mind to realize when presence of mind is required. A brain that is not being constantly challenged in new and different ways grows used to consistency. A ninja who allows himself boredom also surrenders himself to inattention to possibly important details.

I, in my effort to entertain my mind and to keep all my senses attuned to the mission, have come up with probably the most complicated, bizarre, and absurd travel-game in all of existence. If I could put it into words, I think I'd have to describe it as something like a multi-sensory role-playing strategy board game. Without a board. Well, okay, there _is _a board, but it's in my head. It's something like a checkerboard, but it's much larger, and instead of black and white, the board is made up of five different colors. Each space on my mental-game board is a piece of physical space, and the color is defined by strategic importance… Which, in turn, is defined by a multitude of different factors. And that's just the game board.

The main pieces, of course, would be my team. Now, I don't actually think them as pawns in some grand scheme; this game is simply a tool to entertain myself. While my game is one based on strategy, it's more aimed at predicting the movements and reactions of my team rather than utilizing them as soldiers. Besides that, Naruto would make a terrible pawn, Neji's more like a rook, and for some reason, Chouji reminds me of Go Fish.

Anyway, through a series of calculations based on the estimated number of living things in our given gamespace, the size and type of those creatures, and their proximity to any of the members of my team, I can basically predict the slightest of movements that even they don't know they're making. From the expressions on their faces to the almost imperceptible diversion from their original courses, I see it a split-second before it happens.

Of course, that depends entirely on external factors. They still surprise me all the time with acts that seem random or spontaneous that stem not from outside, but from within. I suppose a lot of that is probably fairly predictable too, but it would require more than observation to get inside the head of any Konoha ninja. I'm just not the kind of social butterfly that could really keep up with that. Hell, I'm hardly social at all if I can help it. People are way too high-maintenance… Chouji being the only exception that I'm aware of.

I shake my head and focus back on the game. It may seem like an absurd waste of time and effort over a very trivial task, but it's actually far more complicated (in both process and result) than I can express in words. I'm not guesstimating, I'm calculating, and for calculating I must first have viable data to rely on. My every sense— sight, sound, touch, smell… Well, not so much taste, but my_ important_ senses (Chouji would be so disappointed in me for thinking that) are constantly straining to perceive every detail of our surroundings. I track everything that moves and doesn't move around us.

I indicated before that the _main_ pieces in my screwed-up mind-game were my teammates. However, there are also an infinite number of other pieces… Namely each and every living thing that is _not _one of my men. Some of the game-pieces I know to be definite when my senses confirm their presence, many are supposed (usually when I've sensed an anomaly, but am not quite sure what it is), and then there are an absolutely fantastic amount of possibilities that I try to account for despite having no proof or indication of a presence. Much of the last group is compromised of smaller insects. Hmm… Maybe I should call this game "Quantum Physics by Color."

Nah. Quantum physics is more about probabilities than actualities. I usually wind up taking it into consideration, but it can't really compare with cold, hard fact. I trust my eyes more than I trust my math. However, most of my sensory confirmations actually come from sound, not from sight. No matter how skilled ninja may be, our arts are designed to deceive and combat _human_ foes, or demons who've taken on human characteristics. We hide in the shadows and pass with no trace, but the animals who live in forests like these still see us and feel our presence quite distinctly. They hide from our intrusion and, while that makes them more difficult to see, it causes them to make hurried movements which I am specifically trained to hear. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind makes a different sound than a small animal brushing against them, and I could tell the sounds apart in anything short of a hurricane.

Though perhaps not the most exciting game in the world, it keeps my feet moving and my mind on my surroundings.

01001101010001

"I didn't see it coming at all, to tell you the truth."

* * *

This fanfiction is complete, but the rest still needs to be revised and it's 1:30 am on a worknight. D: You can expect a couple-few more chapters to be posted within the next week or two.


	2. Hindsight

Before I begin, I'd like to make it known that I don't mean any religious disrespect here. When I was casting around for ideas for villains, I had the thought "What could be worse than evil disguised as good?" Thus, the bad guys were born.

* * *

"I didn't see it coming at all, to tell you the truth," I breathe tiredly when she asks me what went wrong.

I absently wonder how long I could have gotten away with lying to myself— lying to Tsunade— if this hadn't happened. Pretending that I was nothing more than a yes-man— a puppet on a string playing chess with people's lives. I wonder if I really _could_ have gotten away with it. I loved this job. I loved my stupid mission head-games. I loved the challenge of the unknown. I loved the respect of my teammates. I loved having their backs and them having mine. I loved the camaraderie. I loved the life.

When I was younger, being a ninja was nothing more than what Mom and Dad wanted me to do. I never wanted the responsibility, but it wasn't worth making a fuss over, so I did my time at the academy and I became a ninja like I was supposed to. The most I hoped for back then was a steady paycheck, a quiet wife and two-point-five kids living in an average house, and early retirement. It wasn't until after the failed mission to retrieve Sasuke that I began to reevaluate my priorities. I considered quitting when my leadership nearly got my whole team killed, but what my father said to me in the hospital when I thought my best friend was going to die… It kept me going. I wanted to keep being a ninja so I could keep my friends alive.

And I really enjoyed watching Chouji fight. I won't ever see that again. I… Can't bring myself to think about that now.

It terrifies me to know that when I'm gone, there will be nobody more qualified to lead my classmates— my comrades. It's nothing short of appalling to know that I'm the best there is.

And I'm not even capable.

"The mission's failure is the fault of my gross ineptitude and poor judgment."

01001101010001

Dusk is nesting in the trees before I call the team to a halt to bed ourselves down for the night. We've nearly broken the forest; a twenty-minute run to the village of our destination, Neji estimates. At this distance, we've got a good chance of running afoul of whatever plague we've been sent to assuage. Someone will have to stand watch. I take in the faces of my teammates; they all look as tired as I feel. I know I won't sleep tonight anyway, so I bid them to settle in as I stand watch, beyond thankful that Chouji isn't the teasing type. I think I'd probably die on the spot if he offered to get me out of my head and put me to bed the way he does back home. That part of our relationship should not intrude where it doesn't belong. Like here, in my thoughts, right now. Again.

What is that now? Four or five times that my mind has wandered in his direction? I swore to myself that what's going on between the two of us will not be brought into the job… And… Screw it. I'm not even going to bother pretending that it is. I'm just making trouble for myself— finding excuses to pretend that maybe I _am_ having a hard time walking that fine line. Chouji has always been a powerful presence in my life, and it'd be a little abnormal if he didn't come up at least this much. I _know _the real issue here is the fact that I have no problem separating work from play… And I always feel guilty about that later.

It's always been absurdly easy for me to shrug off what we do in our off-time and just be teammates like the good old days. Sparring with him, leading him, fighting side by side or back to back with him— it takes a different mindset. When we're struggling for our lives I can't be the Shikamaru that Chouji sees at home. That Shikamaru is a lovesick idiot with no business pretending to be a tactician. He's too insecure to listen to his head for fear that the whisper of his heart will go unheard, and he's too afraid to listen to his heart lest its advice should prove unsound. I have to separate myself from that weaker part of me at times in order to function in the capacity demanded of me.

But I can't pretend I don't feel guilty about the ease with which I am able to make the transition. It's frightening how effortless it is to slip back into the old routine, disregarding what Chouji and I are to each other… And I can't help but feel like I'm committing some form of betrayal. Of course, some part of me must be hoping that feeling guilty and obsessing over it will make everything okay, because that's the only reason I'd ever allow it to take over my thoughts on a _mission_, of all times.

This type of thinking isn't what usually keeps me company on watch duty. I can't recall a single other time when I've dragged my personal life so far out from the corners of my mind when it shouldn't be muddying my clear head. Well, maybe it's the fact that my clear head isn't feeling so clear anyway. There's a fog rolling in from just over the hill to the east, and I can feel it in my fingers and toes and in my bones and… I could swear I'm seeing an angel emerge from the mist.

All else flees my mind as a woman moves toward me with such lightness that the very twigs beneath her feet offer up their reverent silence. The haze dances around her figure, beautiful and brilliant— a goddess walking among mortals. Short, night-colored hair fans wistfully about her face, haloing her wide, innocent eyes and the soft smile that plays across her lips. I can only stare, unbelieving as I'm stricken by her grace, dark skin glistening with dew as she makes her way on tiptoe through the rain-kissed underbrush. Not a scrap of clothing defiles her form and, here in the heart of the forest, it seems more than right. She is flawless.

Too good to be true.

I know better.

Oh god, I can't move. I feel like I'm falling, and in my panic, I can't even feel my heart racing as everything slows down and turns black.

"Must we always wait on you, Eden?" A voice… A woman… The first realization that I'm awake.

"Good things come to those who wait; isn't that what you're always saying?" The voice of another woman. I don't dare to open my eyes.

"I hate to break it to you, Sweet Thing, but you're the only one who ever gets a kick out of this." And a third voice— deep and rough, but unmistakably female. Most likely their elder… Most likely their leader. "I'd rather let 'em come at me head on and have a good go of it. The blood tastes sweeter when it's earned."

"It's sick," the first woman spits venomously, not in the direction of her leader, but to the woman I believe to be named Eden, her voice high and impassioned. "There's a difference between slaying His enemies and gorging oneself on the pleasure of it."

"Ain't no God in what we do, Zion," the eldest replies with a booming laugh. "We go about it differently, but we all kill for the thrill, and you're no exception. You've had your fun, now let Eden have hers."

"Were you not my captain," Zion hisses, "I would cut that sinner's tongue right out of you. The _both_ of you. It is better one of thy limbs should perish than thy whole body be cast into hell."

A fourth woman's voice, drawling and mellow, interrupts the captain's mocking laughter.

"Don't waste your breath, Captain. A will like hers cannot be swayed after even a thousand lifetimes. Let her be. Who are we to say there's no honor in serving her God? I who have no god, you who have a great many, and Eden who turned her back on godliness have no right to mock Zion for her choices. As you said, Valhalla, we're all here for different reasons, but we're all here. I suggest the two of you take a deep breath, a step back, and wait. The five-minute delay is nothing more than wasted time to you; to Eden it is everything."

I expected the silence after her clever speech to last quite a bit longer than a single second.

"Wise beyond your years," their captain proclaims loudly. "Are you sure you haven't found your god yet?"

"I have not," replies the woman. "Mmm… Eden, it should be wearing off about now. Start with White-Eyes— he was farther upwind, so he should be more lucid than the others yet."

That's what she thinks. My body is now responding well to the subtle cues I've been sending. I glance carefully out of the corner of my eye toward Neji, hoping beyond hope that once I've made my move I'll be able to keep the four kunoichi occupied until my teammates can spring to what undoubtedly will be my heroic (and pathetic) rescue. If I manage to get out of this with my life I'll be prepared to call it a win.

Eden, still bare as the day she was born, towers over Neji's still form. The first time I saw her, she was a radiant goddess, but now all I see are evil eyes that have seen more years than her young body. Her disguise is flawless, yet glaringly obvious. This woman doesn't appear to be a day older than I am, but someone that age can't simply take down four Konoha ninja, even while they sleep. There's a skill in every move and every breath she takes that defies her image— she, and the others as well, act with an expertise that one only learns through decades of experience. I'd estimate her true age at somewhere in her late forties.

And a ninja doesn't live to be that old unless she's very, very good.

At least, if I die here, I can die with that thought as comfort.

Eden reaches gently down toward Neji, and I wait. I'll stall as long as I can— until I'm sure it's the last moment. I'll need every last one. A soft touch plays over his heart, and I can see her expression change from excitement to bewilderment, and then, to anger.

"Nirvana, you _killed _him!" she pouts, stamping her foot childishly against the dirt. This time I hear the snapping of dried leaves.

"Ah… Shame. Some do react poorly to my elixirs," comes the relaxed reply, "but you have three more. Don't fret about the one you've lost. Enjoy what you still have."

"You sure he's dead?" their captain asks, and I can hardly contain the urge to leap up and check for myself.

"Yes," Eden replies, her tone laced with disgust. "Absolutely." My heart feels like lead in my chest. Neji is dead.

Valhalla shuffles heavily on her feet. "Stick him anyway."

"Do I have to?" Eden curls her fingertips in her dark hair.

"For goodness' sake, I'll do it," Nirvana sighs. "You know she hates dead things."

"Don't know why she insists on makin' 'em then," Valhalla retorts.

"You… You would _desecrate _a corpse?" the outraged Zion speaks up.

"I don't see why not," Nirvana shrugs as her rough shape appears in the corner of my vision, accompanied by a heavy broadsword that doesn't suit her at all. "If it makes you feel any better, it'll be superficial." She brushes Eden aside and she takes her turn to stand over Neji. Even through my lashes it's almost too much, watching her plunge the weapon quickly and cleanly through his side— watching him simply lie there, bleeding, but still and lifeless. "Now," she voices without hesitation, "the others should be ready for you, but we've waited a little too long, perhaps. Now it's about strategy, not convenience. You're going to have to hurry."

"I'm no good about strategy," Eden replies, her tone indicating a question.

"Get rid of the strongest one now, while they're powerless."

_Naruto._ Naruto is our strongest… With their age, with their skill, will they know it? Can they sense it, or will these masked women be deceived by his appearance? _She's going to go after Chouji_. As my best friend grew up he also grew into his body until he became an absolute rock of a man. No one who saw him side-by-side with the scrawny Naruto would ever guess that the blonde was the more resilient ninja.

Shit. I'm out of time.

Eden reaches out toward Chouji, but before she can lay her filthy hands on him, I shoot up from the ground where I lay and in one movement I'm flat on my back, pinned beneath the naked woman, staring up in panic at the four faces above me. Eden atop me with her dark skin and dark hair. Zion, an armor-clad blonde with a creamy, white complexion. Nirvana, whose skin has more of an olive tint to it— smaller eyes, a rounder face, wearing little more than rags, holding me down by the wrists. Valhalla is a large, strong-looking woman in various furs with gold braided into her hair. This image only further reinforces the theory that they are not what they appear. A team that diverse does not occur naturally.

For a long moment I glare into those dark, evil eyes, and I've become painfully aware that I won't be receiving a heroic rescue anytime soon. None of the others have moved even a hair, and there are four incredibly skilled kunoichi leering over me, and the only thing these women have in common is the look on their faces which reiterates what I already know: I'm fucked eight ways from Sunday. I am most certainly going to die today. The only question now is, should I try for quick and (more or less) painless or… No, it's better if I drag this out. Maybe Chouji and Naruto will be able to get away if I can buy them some time.

I draw a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut as I see the naked kunoichi's dark hands reaching toward me. The way her peers seem to regard her, I know I won't like whatever it is she's planned next. I mentally prepare myself for the agony I know must be coming— tell myself it's all right enough times in a single second to_ make_ it all right. I've been down this road before, and I know how to deal with it. I might not even really _feel_ it when they break my bones. It's the brief second before the contact that always gets me. Encased in blackness while I refuse to open my eyes, her hips across mine, I feel her hands leaving my shoulders. I brace myself for the impact.

My eyes snap open when her lips touch the corner of my mouth. Wide-eyed panic shoots through me. This was _not_ part of the plan. My stomach tightens as I realize this could save us all. It can buy us time if I can fight down the urge to vomit at the very thought of her lips on mine.

"'Ey, 'ey, none of _that _now!" Valhalla scolds. "If Miss Existentialist Crisis says you're on a timetable, you'd better keep up the pace. Get to it, Sweet Thing." Nirvana rolls her eyes but says nothing. I feel Eden sigh a deep breath of exasperation, and as cool air meets my lips, I can't say I'm sorry that particular distraction has failed.

"Yes _mother_," Eden coos mockingly as her hands trail down from the sides of my face. It's at this point that I begin to struggle. There's nothing left now between me and death but a moment or two of carelessness and the distance between her hands and wherever her weapons are stashed.

It only hit me a few seconds afterward as I watched her fingers while I flailed, never reaching for her weapon... A dull, unexpected ache in my chest. She forced one of her hands over my mouth, and half a breath later I was screaming my life into her palm. Unbearable, biting pain explodes from where her fingertips touched my chest, and I could feel that part of me slowly dying as her chakra leaked into me, destroying everything it touched. Nothing I've ever been through compares, and nothing could have prepared me for the excruciating torture of her fingers slowly eating away at my flesh and bone. Even when the pain forces me so far past the breaking point that my initial scream is choked off and silenced I remain abhorrently and unnaturally cognizant. Something is preventing my mind from shutting down under the pressure— keeping me from the relief of unconsciousness.

Oh god, it's only been two seconds and I'm already idealizing death. How can I keep going long enough? How can I _stop?_

"_Shit_," I hear a male voice play against my ear, almost drowned out against the agony washing over my senses. Even through the murderous pain, I realize that he's one of mine. Someone is awake. I can end this.

While our captors are distracted I rip my hands from Nirvana's grasp and tear at Eden's grip on me. In half a moment, my hands jerk away again as if burned. With only the briefest of contact, I think her skin has seared off my prints. Her touch is molten fire, and I can't make her stop. I can't make her stop.

I _can _make her stop.

"_Shikamaru,_ hold on!" I hear Neji shout, and some part of me recognizes that I must already be half-mad from the sheer torture of Eden's caress, but I can't help wishing I'd fucking _told _him like Chouji said I should. It's a gamble, but my heart won't last another moment under her hands anyway.

"Shikamaru!" Naruto shouts among the scuffle. I hear Chouji weakly cry for me too and, with his voice echoing in my ear, I tense every muscle in my body. My muscles scream for me to stop as they stretch and constrict and knot, and now I can feel my heart screaming louder than all the rest. I push myself farther. I push on until all I can feel is the off-beat of my pulse as it skips, slows, and I feel my right arm go numb as my heart stops.

One missed beat. Two. I can't keep my eyes open. Three. The weight of her fingers upon my chest is gone. Four missed beats. Five. I smile and stop counting. I've won.

01001101010001

"I never dreamed it would cost so much."

* * *

Oh no! What will become of Shikamaru? How is he narrating after he's dead? Stay tuned for the next thrilling chapter!

...That line hurt to write. :D In the good way.

By the way, Team Utopia (as I grudgingly call them for lack of a better name) is my brainchild, but I know how hard it is to create villains. HARD. So if anyone wants to steal the idea, go right ahead and do it. I'm all for free-ideas. In fact, I'd be more than happy to share a more complex view of their characters with anyone who wants to know.


	3. Short Sighted

01001101010001

"I stopped my own heart to save myself because I was reasonably sure someone would be there to start it back up again." My hands are shaking.

The very fault for which I chastised Neji, with a bit of work and control, saved my life. I also entered into the mission with a possibly life-threatening preexisting condition. When I was poisoned those months ago, the illness which ravaged my body considerably weakened my heart. I knew I would probably die of low-level electrocution or systemic shock, but it wasn't something I was particularly afraid of. I was always amazingly competent at the avoidance of problems, so I assumed that I would be able to work my way around or out of that type of situation. I never dreamed I would actually instigate one.

"I never dreamed it would cost so much."

01001101010001

Warm, buzzing, misery-laced awareness accompanies the first waking sight of Neji kneeling over me, his hair in disarray and a look of fear plastered across his ghost-pale face. The look doesn't disappear as I blink twice, roll over and cough fire from my lungs.

Unnaturally dark blood oozes like thick molasses from the wound over my heart as I breathe. I can see pieces of my own fractured and scorched ribcage through the small holes her fingers dug out in my chest as I gape down at them. On some level I know it hurts, but it's a bit hushed against the numb buzzing in my brain.

"Can you stand?" Neji asks hurriedly, and I crush my eyes shut and nod as his voice brings everything back into focus. As my eyes adjust, I can see him trying to wipe away the dark smudges on his hands. I wonder if my blood is burning him too.

I grit my teeth as I push off from the ground; my fingertips aching where I touched her, and my chest heaving against the remnants of her touch on me. My legs shake briefly before I feel some small measure of strength returning to them. "Neji, you're…."

"I told you I could control it," he hisses hurriedly. There was no bite or sarcasm. No hint of the "I-told-you-so" tone in the phrase. It's not like Neji to waste an opportunity to gloat, especially over me, even if I _am_ still half as dead as I was a moment ago.

"What happened?" My head whips around as I examine the area around us. I can hardly make anything out in the pitch-blackness. I don't see the kunoichi. I don't see Naruto. I don't see _Chouji_. "Where are the other two?"

"That way," he hisses. "_Hurry_."

His fingers slipped around my wrist and we were already sprinting by the time I realize I've moved.

It's not for another couple of seconds that I realize the others went after the kunoichi. Two against four aren't good odds under the best of circumstances. Two young men against four older and far more experienced assassins; I don't like those odds at _all_. I pull my thoughts together. Listen to the hints playing in the wind— the faint, far-off sound of Naruto's shout followed by a massive explosion that shook the ground under our feet. I shake my head. I'm not worried about Naruto. Hell will freeze over before he's bested.

I don't hear Chouji anywhere. "Neji, what do you see?"

"Naruto is fighting Eden— it's one-sided. Her technique doesn't seem to faze him," he replies.

"Only Eden?" Fuck. "Where are the other three? Where's Chouji?"

The faintest slip; a pause in his breath. "They…" They. All of them together. Chouji and the three most skilled kunoichi I've ever had the displeasure of meeting, together as one word. "Their fight moved farther north. He held all three of them off you long enough for—"

_Fuck._ "How soon can we get to him? Can we get there in time?"

"I don't— _Behind you!_" Neji shouts, turning on his heel and flinging a kunai to deflect the shuriken aimed at my spine. A quick glance reveals nothing but trees, brush, and empty space, but I know that one of those women is out there. One less kunoichi against Chouji. I glare angrily out into the forest. That still leaves him a two-on-one fight.

My weapon at the ready, I place myself back to back with Neji, his superhuman sight and my hyper-perception working vainly to uncover the location of our enemy. We're bordered too closely by the old forest. All around us are nooks and hidey-holes and easy cover for the enemy who's already spotted us, and we're waiting here like lambs for the slaughter. There's no sense in running for cover now; we've already been seen.

Once again these women have shown their prowess, and once again the hunters have become the hunted. So Neji and I stand together, eyes and ears straining to catch the slightest slip that we know isn't coming. All the kunoichi has to do is wait. We are injured— Neji far worse than I. Though he's trying to hide it, the jab of the broadsword to his side is much more serious than he's letting on. We're standing so close together I can almost feel the labored catch in his breath as he tries to manage the pain. We're all waiting for someone to make a mistake, but Neji and I will be the ones to make it, and we don't have time to waste.

"Neji," I whisper so quietly I'm afraid that even he won't hear. "I think there's a clear path at eight o' clock."

"My eight or your eight?" he asks, and I almost groan.

"_Your _eight," I hiss. Why on earth would I bother giving him directions relative to _myself?_ "We've got to make a run for it. Get Chouji. Get Naruto. Get the hell out of here. You need a doctor."

"I'm _fine_," Neji growls. "Worry about yourself."

I shake my head, annoyed. "On three?"

"One," Neji begins.

"Two," I reply.

"_THREE!_"

I dodge nine shuriken in my first six steps, and Neji isn't even bothering with technique, blocking any projectile that sails his way by knifepoint. Two more shuriken zip past us, Neji dodging right as I feint left, but follow him. She's trying to separate us as well as slow us down, but I won't let that happen so easily. Things will get much more complicated if we split up, and this situation is far too troublesome already.

Three more failed attempts to distance Neji and I, and I'm beginning to sense some urgency in the attacks against us. What at first were carefully planned out shots have become quicker, more reflex— less calculated and more deadly. We're not retaliating— we're trying to escape, and the kunoichi knows it. She doesn't want us to get away, and I think it has less to do with blood-lust and more to do with what we may have gleaned from this encounter. What damaging information do I know about them?

Their appearances are misleading; these women are much older and more experienced than they look. Not exactly a damning piece of evidence. They mainly use the faulty perception to surprise their victims. Once their true power is revealed, the disguises amount to nothing, and nothing in the way they move or attack deserves an air of secrecy. Whatever it is they're hiding, it's not about themselves. Their appearances are meant to distract from something else.

Each kunoichi has a drastically different appearance and demeanor, but the reverence shown to their captain (however reluctant it may be), along with whatever unknown agenda draws them all together leads me to believe that they are of a single state, but most certainly not a single family. For a unit like this to be mobilized in disguise means that their nation does not want to be recognized for whatever acts they are committing. Possibly assassination or sabotage, but with their degree of skill and specialty in avoiding detection, I would venture my guess at high-priority scouting. I think we've been sent to stop an invasion.

I am not getting paid nearly enough to deal with this shit. I'm finding Chouji and going the fuck home. Let someone else take care of this.

"They're not going to let us leave so easily, Shikamaru," Neji shouts over his shoulder to me, as if I didn't already know. "You'd better have a plan!"

"Just stay with me, keep your eyes open, and your mouth shut!" I reply as we sprint through the rain of shuriken. "Find Chouji!" I shout, knowing full well the implication of my words.

We're in over our heads with a dismally low chance of surviving another encounter with the kunoichi. We're weak, we're wounded, and we've already been separated from the other members of our group. I took a team of four men instead of the standard three, and in the face of such a real threat, I should be able to spare one. To continue on without sending a runner back to the village with word of the possibility of the invasion of our contractor's nation… Should we be killed or delayed, it could result in an easily avoidable, but catastrophic war.

This is as good as treason. Even if nothing goes wrong here and we all get home safely, my career is over. If anything happens to the contractor's village, or if one of my teammates dies because of this decision… Konoha just might hang me for it.

But I can't send Neji; he won't make it back alone. If I wanted to send Naruto, I could track him down easily, but I won't. If I want to keep my team alive against these odds, I _need _him. I absolutely will not go myself and leave the two of them here to fight for their lives for the same reason I will not leave Chouji behind: I want them all to live.

And that's worth hanging for.

Neji takes in the full magnitude of my order, and nods with a look of apprehension on his face. But the instant the motion was made, he suddenly skidded to a halt in front of me, narrowly missing the wild swing of a gold-inlaid broadsword, the edge already tinted with his blood.

"We will not be denied our promised land!" Zion shouts as she lashes out at Neji again. I leap forward to block her, but an unexpected shuriken whizzing lightning-fast past my face forces me back a pace instead. Neji deflected the blow on his own, if not with some measure of difficulty. He's on his own for now. I wheel around to face my opponent. Nirvana leans casually against a tree-trunk as I hear the clashing of metal and the crunching of dead leaves behind me.

"And you?" I ask hotly. "Do you believe in this promised land? Is that why you're here?"

She takes a long drag from the red pipe she carries. "I'm simply weary of the dead, gray earth crumbling beneath my feet and laying my head down to sleep among the scorpions. I want to feel grass again under my footsteps, and chain daisies together in the cooling breeze. I cannot find happiness where there is no life." I can tell from here that she's high as a kite.

"And you would kill for that?" I snap. "That doesn't seem a bit backward to you?"

She shrugs. "With rebirth there is always a second chance. Perhaps some of the souls I free are even able to take on a higher form when they go."

Utterly deluded. I thought I might be able to reason with her since she seemed the most rational of the kunoichi, but it would appear that her rationale is wholly self-serving. "Let's get this over with then," I shrug, withdrawing a length of wire from one of my pouches.

With a tilt of her head and a shrug of her own, she replies "I think not," to my complete surprise.

I freeze in place. "What?"

"You are wise enough… Adaptable enough… You might even free yourself before I am able," she muses thoughtfully. "You will transcend your physical bonds in this generation. I would not take so many lifetimes of work from you." As I stared blankly after her, Nirvana turned on her heel and waltzed right back into the forest from where she came. I think I've just met the one person on this entire planet who's lazier than I am.

"Nirvana, you indulgent, traitorous, _snake-in-the-grass!_" Zion shrieks behind me as I hear a heavy blow connect with flesh. Blood spatters across my face as I turn and catch Neji when he falls beneath her blade, breath shallow and eyes growing dark.

Zion levels her sword toward us both once again, but a low rumble began to build, freezing us all in place. As the thundering sound grows louder, it suddenly occurs to all of us at once that the sound is a _growl_. I grin at Zion triumphantly. _Naruto_. Zion glances edgily about, and when we sense the footfalls of two people approaching, she gives Neji and I one last scathing look before running for cover.

However, in the middle of thanking my lucky stars, I'm suddenly aware that Naruto's curses sound positively feral against the whispering leaves as he approaches. This isn't the sound of our comrades catching up. This is an enraged war-cry as he chases down an enemy. My eyes widen as I realize that Chouji isn't with him. Where _is_—

"_**STOP RIGHT THERE YOU MOTHERFUCKING BITCH!**_" Naruto screams at the top of his lungs as the captain of the kunoichi breaks the clearing, nearly slamming into Neji and I. With Naruto's vulgarities ringing in our ears, the kunoichi and I lock eyes for a fraction of a second and I can see the end of the world.

01001101010001

"I kept waiting for someone to save me because I'm weak and incapable of saving myself," I battle with grief as I blame myself for this tragedy. "If I'd been stronger, I wouldn't have come home with three men instead of four."

* * *

In celebration of my living through the night (I was really, really f'king sick), I give you an early chapter. I simply _must _share my happiness in the form of Shikamaru's misery. Besides, nobody likes a cliffhanger... Oops.


	4. Perspective

By way of apology for the last cliffhanger, I give you THREE chapters today... But of course I would post this one wrong... Fixed.

* * *

"I kept waiting for someone to save me because I'm weak and incapable of saving myself," I battle with grief as I blame myself for this tragedy. Even though I was right there beside them, I left the others to fight every time while I tried to think my way out. "If I'd been stronger, I wouldn't have collapsed under Eden's hands both mentally and physically. I wouldn't have been banking on Naruto to catch up with us. I wouldn't have come home with three men instead of four."

01001101010001

"_Naruto_, let her run!" I shout, and the sound of it breaks my heart. "Neji is dying! We need to get him to a medic!"

"That _**bitch!**_" Naruto screams, grinding his pointed teeth as the hatred overwhelms him. "We _can't _let her get away!" he shouts, throwing the barely-conscious, wire-bound body of Eden roughly to the ground. A thin layer of blood coats her skin where she lay unwillingly against Naruto. The blood isn't hers, I see. It was transferred from the wound which separates most of Naruto's right shoulder from the rest of his body. The crimson color pooling around his feet, however, is pouring down in streams from a gash in his side that I can't really see from behind the shreds of his orange jacket. I don't need to see it to know that he _can't_ go after Valhalla.

"I said _let her go!_" I command, utterly defeated. "We're bringing Neji home."

"No!" Neji coughs weakly. "We have to find Chouji. We can't just leave him."

I ignore him, drawing my kunai. "First thing's first," I speak mechanically as I drag Eden up by the hair.

Naruto gapes for half a moment before his senses return to him. "What are you _doing_, Shikamaru? She might have valuable information!" he shouts as I line up the blade.

"We won't get anything from her without fighting tooth and nail for it," I reply, "and I'm done fighting. She'll slow us down if we bring her with us." Naruto remains silent as I tilt her head down and slit her throat, disgusted as a few stray drops of blood managed to find my skin. "We're going."

"He's _your _boyfriend, Shikamaru!" Neji's weak shout grates on my ears. "How can you just _leave _him here?"

"Shut the _hell_ up, Neji," Naruto growls as he watches me with a look of astonishment, then of pity. "Your mouth will be the death of you." Then, to me, "If you want to stay… Maybe look for him; I can tell you where I last—"

"No," I reply in a steely tone. "We can't afford to be separated again."

"If you're sure," he fixes me with a look, and I know we're both wondering whether we should scream or cry.

"I'm fucking sure," I snap, "now let's _go!_"

01001101010001

"I quit."


	5. Viewpoint

"I quit."

"Excuse me?"

"I quit," I repeat. "I brought Neji back to you. I reported in. I've done everything required of me. Now I _quit_. I'm going back for him whether you like it or not, and I'm going to take with me anyone who is willing to do what it takes to bring him home."

"You have to know he's dead by now," Tsunade responds levelly.

"I wouldn't have _left _him if there was a chance he was still alive," I snap. "He was dead before I made the decision to leave."

I heard it in Naruto's voice, and I saw it in Valhalla's eyes as she passed me by. Victory and defeat all wound together, knotting inside her heart. She must have known what he was to me. She was sorry. Not sorry enough. "I'm going to bring him home to be buried with his family where he _belongs_ and, while I'm at it, I'm going to slaughter the whores who put him in his grave."

"Ah… Then that's what made you change your mind about coming back?" she asks.

I'll probably have to undergo an official inquiry now that she knows it wasn't loyalty to Konoha which turned me away from Chouji.

The Hokage holds my gaze for a moment before replying. "I will not accept your resignation."

I scowl in frustration. I honestly thought that even after everything I've done, she would at least allow me this if I kept my head and appeared ready and able. I even stopped by home for a moment to change my vest so she wouldn't see the horror underneath. I couldn't let anything get in the way of bringing Chouji home. I can't. She can refuse my resignation and order me to stay behind— she can deny me the right to reject my position for him, but I'll become an outright enemy of the state before I let Chouji's body rot in that god-forsaken forest. "You can't stop me."

"Stop you?" she asks seriously. "I'm not going to stop you. Put together a team and go as soon as you are able. Have someone fill out the paperwork when you're done and after you've had a good, long time to think on it, _then_ we can discuss your career."

Now it's my turn to reply with the disbelieving "_Excuse_ me?"

"No, excuse _me_," she retorts. "What did I ever do to make you think I'm a cold, militant ruler? This village has been under the leadership of men for far too long. You can't even imagine a caring hand in your own Hokage," she shakes her head. "Shikamaru, you are the best of the best. I trust your judgment; you've made all the right choices."

"I allowed us to be ambushed! I surrendered my consciousness to save myself instead of waiting it out with my team! I made the choice to go after Naruto and Chouji when I should have returned to relay our intelligence the moment I realized we were doomed to fail. And guess what? Even though I broke protocol to save my own boyfriend, he's still _dead_ because of me!" I slam my fist against her desk hard enough to scatter a few pages on the ground.

"Chouji is dead_ despite_ your choices." Her eyes are sad and distant. "If you thought I was going to fire you for giving a damn about your teammate, your _boyfriend_ as you say, you're dead wrong," she sighs. "To hell with procedure! When you went after him… If you hadn't, what would his chance of survival have been?"

"Less than one percent," I reply coldly.

"Would you have left him for five percent?"

"No."

"Ten?"

"…No," I repeat.

"Twenty?"

"Yes, I would leave him for that," I sigh. "Twenty percent for Chouji might as well be ninety." Present tense. If I do that again I might crack before I put him to rest. I need… To hold it together for just a while longer.

"And what if it were a different objective? Information vital to the survival of our village? A hostage? An incredibly dangerous enemy?" Tsunade inquires.

"To save the village…" I begin, with a certain measure of disgust. I distance myself from what happened. "I could have sent him to his death. A hostage? It would honestly depend on who it was. However, I would never have willingly or knowingly sent him against an enemy he couldn't defeat. With life there's always a chance to kill them later on." I sag heavily against Tsunade's desk.

"And for any of these scenarios, would your decision change if it were Ino rather than Chouji?" asks Tsunade carefully.

"No," I reply without hesitation.

"For Lee?"

"No."

"Hinata?"

"No…" I pause. "Well, ideally, I'd rather see a higher chance of success before I sent her out."

"What about someone outside the village?" muses Tsunade. "What about Kankuro?"

"I can't say I know Kankuro well enough to know how he'd fare in any given situation, but aside from that, I'd be far more careful with him than one of our own," I reply blankly. "He does not owe Konoha his life, and I think Gaara would be less than pleased if I got his brother killed."

Tsunade nods approvingly. "What about… Naruto? Would you leave him to fight with a one percent chance of survival?"

"I would send him out on less than that," I nod.

"And why is that?"

"Because he wouldn't lose."

"Shikamaru, do you _want_ to quit?" Tsunade asks suddenly. "I would understand, given what you've just been through."

"I _have_ to quit. My actions are not, and will _never_ be in Konoha's best interest," I speak meditatively. I'm just saying things now. "Chouji was the only person who really knew that. I have a lot of faith in the people I work with, so I can generally send them out knowing they could be killed, because if they're smart and careful, they won't be. But I refuse to send my friends to their deaths as lightly as Konoha would." Or as lightly as I just unwittingly sent him.

"I didn't ask you for a monologue, and I didn't ask what you felt you _had_ to do. I asked you if you _wanted _to quit. Is it really easier for you to leave this life behind with Chouji gone? Would you really leave your team to someone else?"

"I… Wouldn't."

"Shikamaru, it is for that reason I need you. If this village is going to survive, it needs to stop regarding its ninja as tools— renewable resources. We need our fighters alive. Mission success is important, but we've lost far too much already. We can't keep burying our good men and expect to survive without them." Tsunade meets my disbelieving gaze with her own determined stare. "The judgment calls you've been making are spot-on. It's that extra effort to keep your team alive that makes you a good leader. You know your teammates well, and you've been fair to them. Your class is the strongest, most determined, most capable I've seen in Konoha to date. It's my hope for the future of our village," she gazes intently at me. "I want my kids _alive_, Shikamaru. I want you leading the top-ranking missions for your class and, once you have a few more of those under your belt, I'm going to promote you."

"Thanks, but I think I'll be a little busy," I snap coldly. "I need to bury the man who died because of me."

"Please, Shikamaru," her voice hangs softly in the air, "don't make me bury you too."

I wouldn't go and get myself killed over this. I'm incapable of that level of stupidity and selfishness. With a raw, throbbing sort of ache in my throat, I know I'll live with this for a good, long time. I'll probably die of old age like I wanted to when I was younger. That dream has never seemed more unappealing. Living my life without him… It would be torture.

I stare coldly at her, not because I'm angry with her— she knows that— but because it helps me keep control. I know that this look is the only thing that will stand between me and the pain of what I've done. After this is all over, I know this is the look I'll be wearing until the day I finally die. "I may have dug my own grave already," I mutter, "but it'll grow cobwebs and rot before I lie in it." Because that's the grave I deserve.

I need to get out of my head and get down to business before… "Has Tenten returned from her mission yet?" I'd prefer Neji, but he's currently bleeding out on an operating table. However, with her proficiency in armed combat, coupled with the stealth and reconnaissance abilities she'd have to possess as a member of Neji's team, Tenten is the next best thing.

"Her team returned an hour after yours left," Tsunade replied quickly. "If you want her, she's yours."

"And Kiba?" I ask.

His tracking abilities are unmatched in Konoha, and on top of being a well-rounded ninja with a quick wit and the basic aptitude for following orders, he's a strong fighter who uses his emotions well in battle. If ever I needed him, that time is now.

"Bring him too," Tsunade nods.

"Then I'll take Tenten, Kiba, and Naruto, and we'll finish what I started," I reply. I've always preferred four-man groups to the standard three. Considering I'm more of a strategist than a fighter, it helps to have a whole team at my disposal rather than handicapping one with my lack of ability.

"Naruto?" gapes the Hokage. "But he's been seriously wounded!"

Yeah, last I saw him half his insides were on the outside. "He'll be fine. He's Naruto," I shrug. "He's probably already begging the nurses to let him go."

"Absolutely not."

"I need him," I shake my head. "He's clumsy, he's headstrong, and he's probably going to ruin every plan I make, but I need him. Tenten and Kiba are capable ninja, but they don't have his kind of strength or his kind of luck. If you want a job done under strange circumstances, you send Shino's team. If you want a job done with silence and skill, you send Neji's team. If you absolutely must have someone annihilated, you send Naruto."

"No," Tsunade reiterates, "He's not—"

"I _am_ fine," Naruto's voice filters through the door with none of the excitement and pride one would normally expect from him. He pushes the door in, and the dried blood on his clothing and the untamed look in his eye only make him look more dangerous— more serious. "I'll go."

I don't like this side of him. I don't like it because it's not him and, _yes_, I know it's not him. Naruto is carefree in the way I wish I was— in the way I may have become before all this. Naruto is happy. Naruto is happy and sad and angry and hungry and silly and whatever else he wants to be whenever the hell he wants to be. Naruto is only ever this grim when things are this bad. I hate this side of him because of what it means.

And I need him like this.

"Good," I nod curtly. "Get everyone together. We leave in ten."

For once, Tsunade is mercifully silent.

01001101010001

"It went better than I expected," I inform Tsunade numbly— disconnectedly.

"Yeah, I can see that," Tsunade grimaces, up to her elbows in blood.


	6. Illusion

"It went better than I expected," I inform Tsunade numbly— disconnectedly.

I did what I set out to do, and nothing went terribly wrong. With my prior knowledge of our enemy's character and Kiba and Akamaru's keen noses, we were able to avoid detection and track down our prey with little difficulty. We singled them out as they did with us the first time around, catching them completely unawares when we returned so soon.

"Yeah, I can see that," Tsunade grimaces, up to her elbows in blood.

01001101010001

I feign a pleading look as our eyes meet across the sea of people and smoke in the crowded room. It smells like a hundred different drugs in the air and a hundred sweating bodies succumbing to them. The atmosphere is permeated with their psychosis and their pleasure and the smell of vomit.

I don't even have to pretend that this is where I want to be when I look in her eyes, her choppy black hair clinging wetly to her face where it escaped from the messy bun atop her head. I think she's wearing the same rags as I last saw her in; what once may have resembled a knee-length kimono of clashing patterns and many colors now seems nothing more than a slapdash bundle of cloth thrown on and tied on with faded tassels. The fabric's edges are ripped and dirty where they hang above her knees and below her wrists, and though not immediately evident, I do notice old and faint bloodstains against some of rips and hems of her clothing. Altogether she paints a rather sad picture, I think. Underneath her rags, I can see she's got the body of a gymnast; almost dangerously thin, and it can't be more than four-foot-seven from her bare feet to the top of her head. However, the detached look in her eye reminds me that this is what she's done to herself. This sweat-slicked, dependant form isn't even her own.

When Nirvana's gaze beckons me forward, I shake the musings from my head. None of this will matter in five minutes' time anyway. I opened my mouth to speak, and I'm not even sure exactly what came out. That doesn't really matter either. All it took was a sincere-sounding request for "enlightenment" or some such bullshit for Nirvana to break out her long, red pipe with a smile. I fight down the urge to smile wickedly.

She insists that I take the first drag as I assumed she would. I comply willingly, wrapping my poisoned lips around the mouthpiece and taking a slow drag. I grin like an idiot as everything grows brighter, and hand the pipe back to her. Nirvana waves it away and draws another from her tattered waistband as I thought she might. She took a drag from the second instrument with a brief, half-sincere apology for her suspicion.

I watch her eyes dilate and a fine sweat break out on her forehead in the five seconds before she hit the ground. Several hours beforehand, Naruto (disguised as Valhalla) had laced her supply of hash with poison as well. I'd already been prepared against the type we used, and the minuscule amount of her drugs that actually made it into my system had no serious effect, so we moved on immediately… After I plunged a long kunai between her ribs, of course. Just to be sure.

And to think, I almost decided to pass her by since she did so for me when last we met. That was before we found out she'd killed at least thirteen people by drug overdose and five others by more traditional and less humane methods in that friendly little village of Nowheresville we were supposed to be protecting. Besides, maybe she was able to take on a "higher form" when she went.

01001101010001

When we spot Zion praying alone on the hillside, I have to grit my teeth to keep quiet. The sheer hypocrisy of it makes me want to scream. Her perfect white hands are upraised in prayer as the sun gleams down on the long, blonde hair drawn up and away from her stony, serious face, giving her an angelic air. The modest clothing upon her tall, wiry frame is all in luxurious yellow hues cascading cleanly down her body, almost completely uninterrupted by feminine curves. She wears silver armor inlaid with intricate aureate patterns atop her yellow garments, and I can tell from the arrogant upward tilt of her head that she knows she's a creature made of flesh and sinew and precious metals, shining under the warm light of day.

I know if I were to close the distance between us, I would see where the blood has gathered in the cracks and patterns in her armor. I wonder how much of Chouji's blood she's wearing.

"Tenten, Kiba, Akamaru: I want the three of you to circle around and come at her from the other side in exactly three and a half minutes," I speak through sign-language. I don't trust myself not to scream it.

"Wait," Tenten signs, "I'll fight her."

"No," I whisper aloud.

"I can do it," her hands say insistently. The fact that she didn't speak it makes me listen a little closer. "And even if I'm hurt, that still leaves the three of you—"

Akamaru growls low and quiet in his throat, interrupting her silent words.

"The _four _of you," she corrects herself, "uninjured and ready to take on the leader."

"You know these women aren't pushovers," I sign. "Can you tell me with one-hundred percent certainty that you will win on your own?"

Tenten nods enthusiastically.

I'd give her a twenty-five percent chance.

Good enough. It's not what I had originally planned, but I'm inclined to allow it. She's been absolutely dying to prove herself to me since the slip-up on our last assassination mission together. I know she blames herself for Neji's condition and the fact that I almost died that day. I don't blame her, and I don't think that Neji does either. Hell, it even saved _both _our lives in the long run. If I didn't believe she was just as strong and capable as the others, she would not be on my team. She wouldn't be here on _this_, of all missions.

However, a part of me is glad of her guilt. It reinforces her determination and heightens her chance of victory. I give her a confirming nod and draw the others away, positioning them high in the trees which tower over one side of the hill. From here we can watch the fight, or jump in if absolutely necessary.

It's a good few minutes before I finally see Zion leap to her feet and draw her broadsword as Tenten enters the clearing with a long, thin sword in her grasp. I did bring her along specifically for this battle since she's the most proficient of our class with a weapon, but I never actually expected her to choose a _sword_ of all things to fight with. All the times I've ever seen her in combat, she's used less mainstream weapons such as nunchucks or maces. I've even seen her wielding an _axe_ from time to time. These types of weapons tended to throw off her enemies, since they're not something anyone is used to defending against.

Naturo, Kiba, Akamaru, and I all watch in fascination as Tenten and Zion exchange their first blows, blade to blade. As Tenten lashes out again, it dawns on me that there's a reason she's chosen this blade. Surprise only goes so far, and against an opponent like Zion she must have known it wouldn't win her the battle. However, playing Zion's game head-to-head with the same type of weapon wouldn't work either. Zion is more powerful and more experienced.

That's why Tenten isn't using the same type of weapon.

Zion is remarkably quick with the broadsword, treating it as though it were a weapon half its weight, but Tenten with her katana is faster. While trying to fight off Zion's huge weapon directly would end with her being overpowered every time, Tenten is relying on her slightly faster speed to deflect rather than block, taking advantage of every opening and using Zion's flaws to her advantage. However, Zion is still the more skilled of the two, and it's clear that if things carry on like this, Tenten will be fighting a losing battle.

Tenten had obviously hoped to end the fight without having to resort to one of her stronger techniques, but in the end we were all ducking for cover as a hundred different weapons came raining down from the bloodied scroll in her hands. As the crash of metal on metal and metal on stone and metal on wood and anything and everything else quieted and the dust begins to settle, we finally see Zion's body— still under the orange glow of sunset and the crimson flow of blood.

I give Tenten an encouraging word of praise before moving on. It was the least I could do for her, I suppose. Her impressive one-on-one fight had indeed left the rest of us free of injury for the last clash. Even more remarkable, Tenten herself remained more or less uninjured for the entire duration of the fight.

01001101010001

It was nearly morning before we finally caught up to Valhalla in a Nowheresville (I still have yet to actually hear the village's name) tavern.

The captain of the now one-woman team sits, drunkenly dealing cards to whoever will play and telling stories of "glorious battle." Just before I decide to strike, one story in particular catches my attention. I still my hand and slide the kunai back into the holster on my right leg as she begins her story by calling it a tale of her most recent combat. I find it unlikely that her last fight would have been days ago, but it's worth waiting a few seconds for. As her narrative progressed past the first sentence, my heart caught in my throat.

"He was a robust and magnificent warrior," she slurs with something akin to respect as she kicked out her booted feat and set them heavily down on the tabletop, "and he fought like a champion against the three of us to defend his lover." She waves the barkeep over for another refill and I just want to knock the pint from her hands and shout for her to continue the story, because as much as I don't want to hear how Chouji died, I want to hear how he lived the last few minutes of his life that I wasn't there to see.

"I wish now that I'd fought 'im one-on-one," Valhalla muses as she takes another sip of ale, her gold baubles and rings clinking against the flagon. "Wasn't until after Nirvana struck the final blow that I figured he deserved better'n a one-sided fight against the three of us," she sighs, and I don't know what to make of that comment. "To reduce someone that valiant to begging in a matter of minutes is shameful."

Unable to listen to even one more word, I signal my team to move. Naruto and two dozen of his shadow-clones burst through the windows, followed closely by the rest of the team. Valhalla leapt up from her chair, picked up the solid, heavy table (at least a good hundred-fifty pounds, I'd venture) as though it were a toy, and hurled it into the fray, crushing ten or so doppelgangers. Including mine.

I drop my disguise while her back is turned to me, focused on my team racing in from the outside. With a steady hand I withdraw the largest knife from my pouch and thrust it deep into her unsuspecting back, and I feel the satisfying, but very faint pop of her lung. I'd been playing cards with her the whole night, waiting for just that moment. Recognition flits across her features as the kunoichi slips from my blade and crumbles to the floor.

"Don't blame 'im," she gasps wetly from the floor as she realizes who I am, and the tone with which she says it halts my killing blow for the second time this morning. "The final blow didn't kill 'im outright, and 'is wounds would have taken too long to—" she begins coughing, "to kill," she continues weakly as blood begins to drip from the corner of her mouth. "He begged me not to kill 'is team, but I know he meant _you_. There was no dishonor in it."

My head spins as the tears threaten me.

"I would have left 'im there, but it didn't seem right to leave 'im suffering like that," Valhalla chokes out. "I offered to end 'is pain, and he said that with the blue pill he had on 'im, he'd be able to go peacefully." After she finished speaking she began to hack violently and uncontrollably.

I feel frozen stiff as she coughed her blood on my feet.

Valhalla didn't kill Chouji.

She _saved_ him.

I don't even wait to watch her die before I bolt from the tavern. Chouji was _alive _when I left him; fatally wounded with nothing more than his deadly food pills to keep him going for just a while longer. If… If he's dead now, it'll have been my fault: absolutely and undeniably.

"Kiba, Akamaru, _find_ him!" I shout at the top of my lungs.

* * *

Please forgive me for this... But you're going to want me to take some time to work with the next chapter. Trust me. You'll have it before the week is out.


	7. Seeing is Believing

It's a painful half-hour before we pick up the scent. My heart races in my chest as the last shreds of my cool, disconnected feeling are beginning to melt away. Every step takes me closer to him and farther down into this misery. I can't bring myself to believe, even for a moment, that I haven't killed him. As we run, I pray to whoever will listen that this knotting in my insides and the cracking of my heart will kill me before I have to look into his lifeless eyes, knowing I was the one who did this to him. But I can't stop running. I can't keep myself away. After all the assumptions, I have to see it with my own eyes.

I can tell we're getting close. The trees here are scored with signs of combat, and the earth is pocked and cratered in places where the battle has crushed it in. Akamaru is the first to break into a dead sprint, Kiba only a hair behind him. They can smell his blood.

I rush on, faster than I've ever moved before, but I couldn't hope to match their speed. Akamaru is the one to finally spot his broken body cradled in the roots of a massive cypress tree. My pace instinctively slows, drawing out the moment as his faraway from takes over my sight. The team senses my hesitation and slows with me, but it's Naruto's respectful gaze that holds the others back as I approach Chouji, too afraid for words. His clothing is absolutely saturated in blood— some old, some new— and it hangs off his sallow form loosely where it hadn't before. I'm shaking… He looks sick… Very sick. He looks dead.

Most of the exposed flesh that isn't obscured by lacerations is covered in massive bruises. They were probably very dark blues and purples a couple of days ago, but since then most of them have lightened slightly into blue-brown colors with hints of green around the edges. The contusions have been healing— he's been alive like this for _days_. However, I can still see several areas where the contusions remain critically dark, some that are even raised and hard-looking against his skin. That would indicate seriously broken bone or…

I don't want to touch him, so terrified that his skin will be cold, but I can't keep from reaching out and taking his hand in mine. It isn't warm.

"Chouji," I sob for the first time since this all began. "Chouji, please, say something. _Please_," I beg him.

"_Thank god you're alive_," he whispers faintly, weakly, so painfully it hurts me.

I left him for dead, and that's the first thing he says to me. "_Thank god you're alive_." I almost want to die.

I want to keep him alive more.

"_Naruto, Kiba, Tenten!_" I shout. "_That stretcher had better be ready!_"

01001101010001

"You know, luck like that only happens once in a lifetime," Tsunade sighs, leaning against the hospital hallway's white wall.

"Then the universe still owes me one hell of a favor, because that had nothing to do with luck," I muse darkly. "It was his skill and resourcefulness that got him as far as it did. If I hadn't given up on him…"

"You couldn't have known," she whispers.

"I should have," comes my self-loathing reply.

"Just… Please don't do anything stupid, Shikamaru," requests the Hokage.

"I won't. This time I'm making the right choice."

01001101010001

I love the sound of his voice chattering happily in my ear as I walk him home for the first time. His wounds have healed completely under Tsunade's skillful hands, and he's finally put on a healthy amount of weight again. He looks well. He looks _good_. At a glance, you would never know this was the man I left dying unspeakably in the middle of nowhere.

I wish I was anywhere but here right now. I could be a cloud, somewhere in the stratosphere, far, far away from here and away from this despair and the knowledge that I don't deserve him. Chouji slows his walk and asks me something— I don't know what. I can't hear him over the roar of my own inadequacies. I blink and stop with him. A blank stare meets his own inquiring gaze.

"Shikamaru," he asks again, "why are we going this way?"

"Your family's been worried sick," I shrug. "You should go home. See them."

Chouji lets out a forced chuckle. "I've been cooped up in that stupid hospital for _twelve days_. I've seen every last one of them at least a hundred times! They can wait; I want to go home with you."

I wish I was anywhere but here right now.

"Go home Chouji."

"What are—"

"I can't see you anymore," I announce clearly, hating myself with every syllable… Hating myself for every second he just stands there with that look of desperate disbelief on his face. Then, a serious frown takes over his features and he fixes me with that glare… The 'we-have-to-talk' glare. "Please don't make this harder than it has to b—"

"If you think you can dump my sorry ass out here and I'll just go run and cry to mommy and daddy," he scoffs, "you're out of your skull." Before I can even register what's happening, he's got my wrist and we're sprinting off toward my house.

"I knew we had things to work out after what happened," he says miserably, "but..." he trails off as he approaches my door warily, looking to me for reassurance before he pushes it in. "…That was way too easy," he muses nervously when nothing exploded as he entered my house. "You never shut off, _did _you?" he asks me worriedly.

"You should go," I reply. I don't have the energy for much else, because he's right. Other than exhausting myself into a few half-hour long near-comas, I haven't slept since this all began. It's been plaguing my every thought, and I can't… Won't will or work those thoughts away. I lie awake at night, and all I can see is his fading smile and his blood on my hands, knowing I deserve every miserable second of it.

"And there's no mountain of dirty dishes in the sink!" Chouji yelps, as though the lack of a mess in my kitchen were appalling. "Have you even _eaten _anything?"

I remember part of a sandwich the other day, I think. The part that Chouji split off of his.

"That's it," he slams his hand on the counter. "Sit your ass down and I'll cook you something," he commands, retrieving his apron from a hook near the pantry. "_I can't believe you_," he grumbles, taking stock of my perishables. I should be relatively well-stocked considering my recent lack of appetite. "_No sense in skipping out on your meals_."

"I was right, you know," I sigh, sliding into a seat at the kitchen counter across from Chouji as he lights up my stove. He pauses, setting down the frying pan he'd dug out. "This was a mistake. I'm not good enough for you."

"You came back for me," he whispers, throwing a few eggs and vegetables onto the pan.

"I _left_ you there!" I shout, curling down into myself, head in my hands. "I shouldn't have—"

"If you'd let Neji die because of me, I'd never have forgiven you," he interrupts me, stirring up the mixture in the frying pan. "And you wouldn't have forgiven yourself either."

"Naruto could have gotten him home," I shake my head. "I should have stayed with you."

"And then what, there would be two Konoha corpses instead of none?" Chouji stares me down over his cooking. How he manages to look so serious in an apron I'll never know. "For all you knew, I was dead. You made the right choice."

"I made the choice any leader would make," I nod, "but that's the problem. I'm not just your leader; I'm your _lover_. I should have—"

"You know," he interrupts me, thoughtfully. "We never kiss before a mission." He watches my expression. "No, it didn't escape me," he retorts to my silence. "And you know what? If I thought it was a problem, you would have been the first to know." Chouji abruptly turns around and begins fishing around in my cupboards for a plate. "I didn't bring it up because I thought we were on the same page; work before play and all that jazz."

He sets a plate down in front of me and extends a pair of chopsticks to me. I didn't even see him dole it out.

"Our missions are _not_ about us as lovers, they're about us as ninja. I know that, and I've always liked the way you're able to keep so strongly and easily to that mode of thinking. It's what makes you a good leader, and it's what makes me a good follower," he says. When I don't take the chopsticks from him, he picks up a piece of egg and points it at my face. "_Eat_, Shikamaru," he commands, but I wave his hand away. When I open my mouth to speak, he sneaks something delicious and spicy in my mouth. I let out a groan and swallow before I snatch the chopsticks from his grasp and move to talk again.

"If I were a good leader, my teammates wouldn't be dying at the end of every mission I lead," I sigh, moving the vegetables around on my plate.

"You're leading _only_ the top-ranking, most dangerous missions," scoffs Chouji. "Did you honestly think they'd all go off without a hitch?" he shakes his head. "And even so, there's nobody I'd trust more with my life, and nobody I'd rather die with or die for."

He pops another bit of egg in my mouth while it's hanging open. When did he take those chopsticks back?

"I'll say it again, Shikamaru, you made the right choice, and I don't want that to change because you're too hung up on _us _when things might go wrong. I've grown up a lot over the years, and my pride has grown with me. Don't think you can get away with treating me like some simpering woman on our missions now just because I might get hurt. It would be downright insulting," he warns, waving another morsel of food at me.

I grunt disapprovingly, but give in and take that bite. I'm too tired to keep up both arguments.

"I think we're lucky, you know?" Chouji muses. As I chew, I fix him with a look of censure which just rolls off his back. "Like we're in two different relationships at once. They're both important to who we are and what we do— two different sides of the same thing. I love them both. When we're ninja, I see in you a man who's more than a man, with strength, will, and character that I would follow to the grave. When we're lovers, I see you as the one I want to hold and protect— the one I want to grow old with."

The snap of my chopstick breaking didn't even make him pause.

"Shikamaru, you're the one I love most in this world, and you're also the man I admire most. You always have been. When I told you I loved you, I didn't mean I'd love you only if you changed yourself into something you're not—into something else, when this has always worked for us. When I say that I love you, I mean that I _love you_."

There's no way I deserve him.

"_Chouji_," I whisper sadly. "You should find someone who's worth your time."

"Just stop _thinking_, would you?" he groans. "Quit trying to push me away when I know that's not what you _want_."

I try to stifle to sob, but it winds up breaking through anyway— breaking my voice as I cry "I _want_ to stop hurting you."

"I'm not the one crying," he ruffles my hair. "You're only hurting yourself."

"Just _go_, Chouji!" I shout, slapping his hand away.

"Do you love me?" he asks suddenly and seriously. I look up, and I'm pinned under his stare. I can't catch my breath. "Do you _love_ me?" he asks again, louder this time.

It takes all my willpower to keep from screaming my answer back at the top of my lungs.

"_Do you love me?_" he repeats a third time.

"_**Yes**_**, I fucking **_**love**_** you!**" I shout back, my heart racing so hard it almost hurts.

My gut hits the counter hard as Chouji drags me toward him by my collar. "Then _shut up_," he whispers, his breath tickling my lips, "and _kiss me_."

The moment I open my mouth to protest he's inside me, and I can't think of anything to say while his tongue is busy shutting down my upstairs brain. In less than half a second I've gone from begging him to leave me to begging him to just fuck me, right here and now. And that's just his kiss, oh _god_ he's good. I can't remember what we were arguing about. I doubt it matters; it was probably something stupid, and he's always right anyway.

"Mmm," I moan shamelessly into his mouth. My modesty died ages ago when I realized _just_ how much Chouji likes the sound of my voice.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he replies to my nonsensical noise, pulling away only just far enough to yank me out of my chair and into his arms. "Now, are you done being a royal pain in my ass?"

I would have thought of a great comeback. I really would have… But after several seconds, when all I could bring to mind was his hand on my ass, I gave up. My higher brain functions have been redirected from witty repartee to _holy shit, that's his hand on my ass._ "Uh…" I reply oh-so-cleverly.

"Good," Chouji grins before dragging me off toward the bedroom and tossing me down on the bed with a bounce. In half a labored breath he's down here with me, kissing me so hard I know I'll be bruised tomorrow.

At the risk of sounding like a slutty teenage girl, I _love_ it when he gets that little bit rough with me. He's so energetic and full of life, and when he gets like this, I swear I feel it pouring into me. His fingers dig into my hips until it hurts _so _good, and I bite back at his shoulder as I struggle against another of his stupid shirts that _always_ seem to get in the way. Finally, but with a few protests of static shock, I slide out from under him and slip my hands down past his broad shoulders, dragging with them the offending garment torturously slow as I enjoy his skin under my fingertips.

Chouji's breath catches in his throat, and now I'm forgiving myself for my earlier lack of clever _verbal_ dialogue. As long as I can keep up with the nonverbal banter I'm past the point of caring whether or not I sound like an idiot, which I'm sure I will.

"_Chouji_," I whisper hotly in his ear as my teeth scrape across the cartilage.

He leans back just slightly to turn his head and kiss me, and for a brief instant as his whole body plays under my sight, I see gaping wounds and lifeless flesh again. My every nerve is flooded with the complete terror of it. My shaking hands attempt to block out the vision of his corpse in my arms, and all I feel is his blood in my eyes.

"_Chouji_," I sob softly, fighting the urge to cut off my hands and burn out my eyes to get his death off of me.

With the touch of his hand across my face, the image escapes me and I collapse weakly against him.

"I saw it too," he murmurs tiredly against my ear. He saw… _His death?_ "Your death," he supplies. "It… Was all I could see when I looked at you." The tremor in his touch as he runs his fingers through my hair all but says it for him.

"How… How were you able to _look_ at me after that?" I sob, my eyes shut tight. "How were you ever able to open your eyes again? How could you just move _past _it?"

"I watched you sleep through the night and wake up in the morning," he replies warmly, drawing me close enough to feel his heart beating in rhythm with mine.

But with the comfort of his living body entwined in mine, I know I can't do the same. I'll just have to hope that when I wake, his presence will be enough to convince me that everything will be all right. My head buried in his chest, I cried my heart out until I fell miserably into sleep.

01001101010001

"Chouji," I mumble sleepily, prodding him in the face none too gently. Even if he does look retarded and precious with his face all squished over my arm, that limb is now all kinds of unpleasantly asleep. Feels kind-of like there's a dull chainsaw battling to fight its way out from inside the circulation-starved limb. "_Chouji,_" I poke him again.

Weird. I'm _never_ awake before he is. The first sight that usually greets me come morning is his deep, amber eyes gazing back into mine. I'm not going to lie, it was intensely creepy at first, but I've grown to expect it and to enjoy it. I like waking up knowing that he's there for me. Why isn't he awake?

I watch him breathing steadily and sleepily while my arm screams for mercy. That damn arm is always causing me problems. Never did heal right. I do my best to ignore it; I don't feel like waking Chouji up anymore. He always lets me sleep for god knows how long after he's woken up. Still… I wonder why I'm the first one up. I don't feel very well-rested, so maybe I'm up prematurely.

Or maybe it's because I cried myself to sleep in his arms last night while he held me.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and open them again.

I sigh with relief when all I see is Chouji dreaming peacefully while sending my bad arm to an early death. His hair is a bit tangled from sleep, and yet he still looks absolutely perfect lying here next to me because he's _alive_. He's _really _alive.

And when I close my eyes, it's Chouji sharing his chips with me out behind the school during recess. Chouji as my pillow, cloud-watching with me as the summer breeze stirs the scent of wildflowers all around us. Chouji and I stargazing up on my roof, bundled in blankets and sipping hot chocolate. And It's Chouji, Chouji, Chouji just the way I love him. All my favorite moments and memories slipping through to me from the corners of my mind where they'd hidden from my fear.

Some part of me will always feel guilty for what happened, but Chouji's presence takes the poison from the bad memories. The fear will remain with me as long as I love him, but it will be encircled and muted by his embrace. The gentle rhythm of his breathing will teach me to control the sadness. His words color in the gloom and paint a brighter picture for me to carry on with, and his touch heals wounds where needle and thread cannot. His smile makes me whole again.

I know waking each morning with him won't solve everything, but it will give me the will and the strength to find a way.

"_When I say that I love you, I mean that I _love _you," _his slumbering embrace reminds me.

"I love you," I murmur against his lips as he sleeps, and with every part of me, I mean that.

01001101010001

A small smile plays across my lips as I watch him begin to wake. It's the slightest change in the rhythm of his breathing and a hint of movement before his eyes slowly open, only just starting to take in the new day. He blinks two, three times before a pleasantly puzzled expression settles over his features.

"What force of nature woke _you_ up so early?" he chuckles groggily, wondering what broke the routine.

"You're killing my arm," I reply playfully, yanking the limb from beneath his head. "Thank you very much," I grin, shaking out my numb arm.

While I'm trying to coax some life back into my next-to-useless appendage, Chouji takes the limb in his own hands, placing kisses on each of my fingertips. His lips send flickers of feeling straight to my heart as their edges tilt ever so slightly upward.

"It's so good to see you smile, Shikamaru," he whispers against my palm. "I feel like I haven't seen it in forever."

"It's good to see _you_," I muse while the giddy feeling of life is growing stronger with every second I watch him. I think I could be completely happy just to sit here and look at him until the end of time. For this instant, I'm glad of everything that led us both here to this moment because I can't imagine anything more perfect— because I woke up and Chouji was still here with me.

Time itself seems to stop as my lips meet his, but I know that it's really _me_ that's slowing down with this kiss. When I'm running in circles so fast it leaves my head spinning without ever getting anywhere, his touch always slows my racing head. His kiss makes me timeless, and though I try my best to memorize every second of it, it's a whole new experience each and every time. He saves me over and over again.

It doesn't matter who started it, because I know I can let go in his embrace. I can give way to his lead, and I can follow for once. I succumb to the head-rush as our kiss leaves me breathless and gasping for more while the rough, familiar sensation of rope slides loosely around my wrists. I shoot Chouji an inquiring look. Ordinarily he'd never let me realize what he's doing as he slips the ropes around me, using his tongue and his hips and everything else in his arsenal to distract me— it'd just never work otherwise, and we both love when it works. He'd never leave me anything less than top-notch, field-quality knots binding my wrists to the headboard. The longer it takes me to get free, the longer he can draw it out.

It's not until he wraps the other end of rope around his own hands that I understand what he means. I stare at the link between us for a full moment before lunging forward and claiming his mouth with my own. Locked in our kiss, I hold him like I'll die if I can't keep him close enough to keep us warm even though I know he's not going anywhere without me. It's all so euphoric and earnest, and I'm so overwhelmed by the emotion that bleeds through us with the skin-on-skin contact that it feels like the first time again… Like every touch of his lips and daring contact of his fingers is reaching through to my trembling soul while bringing me higher than I've ever felt before. His breath is like billowing clouds and his kiss is the light filling up this sun-soaked room. Everything is clear skies and clouded eyes as Chouji breaks our kiss, and I ache for more contact.

Chouji yanks me up by the collar, and I gasp loudly as I tumble into his lap, the warmth alone nearly driving me mad. He tugs upward on my shirt, but even though we've been through this routine a million times, we never quite work in sync when it comes to getting free of our own clothing. Where he pulls I push, and it's endlessly frustrating trying to keep from writhing against his slick body while his fingers are working their way over mine. Even when we finally do get that thrice-damned shirt over my head it hangs comically between us, suspended by our rope— our lifeline.

It started out as a frustrated chuckle, but as I stared at my stupid shirt dangling there between us, the laughter built until we were both in hysterics and it was all I could do to keep my sides from splitting.

"Here," chortles Chouji at the height of our amusement, "I'll get it off," he grins, tugging at the line joining us.

"No," I snort, unwilling to lose our connection. "Just leave it."

Suppressing the laughter, I reclaim his lips, sliding my tongue between them and reveling in his human taste until I want to melt in the wake of my own action. It's his hand sliding down past the back of my waistband that solidifies me again, and my breath catches momentarily at his teasing touch, pressing me even harder against his hips. Skillful fingers, after delving down oh-so-suggestively, trail back up my spine and then ride low again over my hips until—

"_Ah!_" I shout as Chouji slips his hand away at the last moment in favor of fiddling with my fly. "I _hate_ clothes!" I groan into my palm as Chouji laughs at my sudden outburst.

"So quit wearing them then," he grins as he slips one hand behind my head and the other between the two of us, making my eyes roll back as his fingers work their way past the zipper and through to the bare and tantalizingly sensitive skin beneath. "_Well_," remarks Chouji as he runs his fingers so lightly along my length it makes me whimper, "I guess that's _one_ less layer to worry about."

My reply falls into nonsense— not a single intelligible word in the loud, throaty moaning, but it's okay because I don't need words to speak with him. When we're here like this, we talk through touch. With my hips grinding down on top of Chouji's, his hand between us, I'm silently begging him to hear me out. The rope loosely binding us catches around the back of my head as our corresponding hands move in the same instant— his in inundated submission as I raise myself up on my knees in order to reach the clasps in his pants. The rope's tension nearly knocks me over his shoulder and over the edge of the bed as I attempt to at least start the obnoxious process of getting Chouji good and naked, though my plans were essentially thwarted by our bindings. Thankfully, with a yank of the rope, Chouji had me lying safely flat on my back against our pillows. Even if we were tangled hopelessly, at least we were tangled comfortably. More than, in fact.

My hand is pressed against Chouji's chest and I can feel his heart beating faster for me. I can tell by the hazy look in his eye that the rope caught between my legs isn't just turning _me_ on. I let out a low, whimpering moan as he shifts, the cord sliding wonderfully against my attention-starved manhood and his pulse spikes with mine. However, as much as I'm really, _really_ enjoying where I'm at right now, we both know that in this tangled mess we're not really going to get anywhere.

I gasp hotly as Chouji lifts my leg in an attempt to slide the rope from underneath it, but the cord is too short to allow us far enough apart. We both stare in momentary bewilderment at the situation, pressed too tightly together to really know how to separate. How did this even _happen?_ Chouji huffs in exasperation as he works some kind of contortionist puzzle magic with our bodies which ends in freedom and my left leg slung over his elbow as he suddenly thrusts electrically against me.

My back arches as he whispers my name so hungrily I can't help but to sink my teeth tastingly into his lip. Chouji retorts by tugging away my pants and delving down to nip at my thigh, sparking an inferno in the pit of my stomach. Clutching at the bedsheets, it's all I can do not to shout as he goes even farther, and I'm surrounded by him, intensely hot and so, _so_ good. His tongue lights a fire in me that only he can put out.

I grit my teeth with the agonizing moment of nothingness when his mouth leaves me because I know it leads to something better. When Chouji's lustful hands trail up my body, encouraging me and begging my movement, I shake with anticipation as I comply. I raise one arm up over my head and turn, tremulous, with my back to Chouji as he draws one more loop of rope around my wrists, binding them together behind me.

A shiver runs down my spine as I feel his slick, calloused finger enter me, and when a second joins in, I let loose a strangled groan against the sheets. Rocking against him experimentally in rhythm with our steadily quickening breaths, I find myself shouting for him, begging, pleading for him to _fuck_ me already because I can't survive another second without him inside me.

Wordlessly and before I can even fully register it, Chouji complies, sliding his fingers from me and pushing himself in more suddenly and deeply than I ever thought possible and _god_ it hurts so unbelievably _good_. My eyes close and my mouth hangs open in a silent gasp as the sensation completely overwhelms even my voice. With that one movement he thrust my entire body so close to the edge I'm grabbing at the sheets just to keep my balance.

When at last I feel it tearing its way from my throat, I scream as though it's the only way I can endure the pleasure. With another thrust just as deep and as deliberate, it's his name I'm calling, over and over so that now he fills my every sense. The delicious sensations mount as the pace quickens with our hearts and our breaths until even his name sounds edible. We're both being carried away with the pulsating lust and the endearing adoration, and I'm losing myself in this tangle of bodies and ropes and bedsheets with him, gasping and moaning and whimpering as I'm feeling him so fervently.

When Chouji calls out my name, pressing his entire body against mine, I scream out for him as well, my heart skipping twice when every nerve is flooded with the staggering pleasure as we came together.

Chouji waits until my pulse has stopped thundering in my ears to withdraw himself from me, and I gasp slightly at the sensation. His fingers trace the knots around my wrists, pulling and testing their strength. The first loop comes undone under the slightest pressure, allowing my hands to separate. Ironic, the only time I've ever failed to get free is the time when the knots are the simplest.

"Don't untie the rest," I request breathily as I put my freed hands to use, pushing myself unsteadily off the mattress as the rope drags Chouji closer to me.

His warm arms encircle me tenderly and I actually blush as he replies "I wouldn't dream of it."

Without a thought, Chouji straightens out what's left of the snags in our cord so that I can turn and face him, entangling our limbs together instead. Laying here with him, my heart feels so full that it's knotting as well and all I want to do forever and ever is continue to be here, whispering "_I-love-you's_" against his skin until the end of time, because with every part of me, I _do _mean it.

* * *

And then they lived happily ever after. Again.

This chapter was going to be nothing but fluff, but then I remembered the reason I started writing Chouji/Shikamaru in the first place was the lack of smut. So smut-ho!

I will eventually be revising this fic (fight scenes, nooooooo) with the suggestions that were made in the reviews (mostly by Raiment OTL), but not now. I... Am so.... Exhausted.

Thanks all of you who've been reading, reviewing, and generally stroking me ego, and a special thanks to iFrank for brainstorming with me and Raiment to giving me a swift kick in the ass when I needed it! XD It's been fun y'all!


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